


never to be caught

by Morcai



Series: to the south [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic, Iskryne Series - Elizabeth Bear & Sarah Monette
Genre: Gen, Minor Character Death, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Psychic Wolves, and more thoughts of homicide probably, canon but with occasional commentary by psychic wolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 15:20:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15754392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morcai/pseuds/Morcai
Summary: When Neil Josten chooses Millport, Arizona, as his next hiding place, he takes exactly three things with him–a duffle bag that contains his entire life, a binder full of articles about Kevin Day and Riko Moriyama, and a rangy, underweight bondwolf named Hyde.





	never to be caught

**Author's Note:**

> While this is a crossover with the Iskryne series, you don't need to know the series in order to follow the fic. All you need to know is that bondwolves are wolves, about two to three times the size of normal wolves, that psychically bond to people. They speak telepathically to their sibling (their bonded partner) primarily in image and scent, and are generally focused on the present, with intelligence probably around that of a five year old child.
> 
> (I don't actually know how smart five year olds are, it just sounds good.)
> 
> If you have any questions, drop me a comment and I'll try to help you out!

James Nichols meets his wolfbrother in a park at the center of a town barely big enough to be worthy of one. He’s tucked into the shadows of a small copse of trees, low to the ground, and watching the police cars with wide, careful eyes. He’s already been waiting for perhaps half an hour, not willing to cross the street while he could still be flagged down.

The meeting, like many things in their lives will be, is unconventional.

James is busy watching the police cars with the intensity of someone whose life depends on avoiding them (because in his case it _really does_ ), when he suddenly has a curious sense of _doubling_ , and he knows a series of back alleys and quiet streets, all painted strangely in shades of yellow and grey and blue, rather than familiar colors.

It’s bizarre, but understandable.

It’s just not _his_.

When he turns to find a rangy, pale-eyed wolf just behind him, he isn’t surprised. The wolf has none of the grace of Uncle Stuart’s sister—Silk is tall and elegant and her white fur is smooth and clean—but there are similarities in the lean lines, the shape of the head and the glimmer of amusement in pale eyes.

James does not scream, because he does not need police attention, but there’s still the quiet grip of terror in his heart. His father doesn’t accept people with bondwolves, but that doesn’t mean this wolf isn’t attached to someone trying to curry favor.

 _:amusement:_ brushes across his mind, and James bites down his nerves, does his best to close himself off, like his mother taught him to do when they were with Uncle Stuart, years ago. Now isn’t the time to panic–he has to make it to the meetup point, he has to tell his mother. The wolf has given him a way to do that.

“Thank you,” he mutters to the wolf, and slips out of the trees. The pattern of streets and yards to cut across is sharp in his mind, and he’s careful all the way, wary for a trap, but it’s clear and dead-quiet as he makes his way to the dark alley that he and his mother made the meetup point.

His mother isn’t there yet—probably either still losing any pursuit, or dealing with making them real again—and so James curls up into a corner of the alley, and watches the street carefully.

He doesn’t notice when _:eyes on watch:_ falls around him like snow, and lulls him to sleep.

* * *

When Neil Josten chooses Millport, Arizona, as his next hiding place, he takes exactly three things with him–a duffle bag that contains his entire life, a binder full of articles about Kevin Day and Riko Moriyama, and a rangy, underweight bondwolf named Hyde.

(Neil has never told anyone how to spell Hyde’s name. Hyde always finds it funny so many people think his name is a verb.)

No one asks why Neil has a bondwolf, which is a relief, because it’s hard to explain that the wolf found him at thirteen and refused to leave, that their bond survived transatlantic flights, seventeen cities and as many names. His mother didn’t like it, said a bondwolf would attract too much attention. Neil always knew she was right, and so Hyde knew, and kept circling, now closer, now further away, but never coming to rest.

But after Seattle, after his mother bleeds out and burns on an unremarkable spot along the California coast, there’s no more point in staying apart. A teenaged boy on his own already attracts more attention than a woman and her son. A young man and his bondwolf are, at least, not usually asked if they need help.

Hyde was already following when they left Seattle. He catches up by the time Neil is outside of San Francisco.

(Neil knows that bondwolf-human pairs aren’t supposed to work like this. They’re not supposed to stretch across countries or continents or oceans, one is not supposed to leave the other behind. It’s not impossible, as Neil has proved, but it isn’t _right_.

 _:pack,:_ Hyde says, unconcerned by their irregularities, and that is that.)

They chose Arizona because Neil’s mother never took them there, because he hates the desert, and so Arizona is safe. Millport is the product of careful hours in libraries and truck stops, poring over maps and census data. A small, dying town in the middle of nowhere, with enough houses foreclosing that Neil should be able to find a place to squat, and enough emptiness around it on the map that Hyde should be able to hunt, Millport sounds about as good as it’s going to get.

Once they decide, Neil spreads out his maps on the suspicious carpet of their shady motel of the week, and they trace paths, silently discussing how Neil will hitchhike and jump trains and walk the miles to their newest hiding place. Hyde learns the nearby highways, the paths and the exits and the signs he will need to find Millport.

And then Neil checks his roots, and meets his brown eyes in the mirror.

“My name is Neil Hydesbrother Josten,” he says to himself, grounding himself in the life he and Hyde built for themselves.  “I met brother in Kansas, and he was the result of an unplanned breeding. My parents work in Phoenix…” He repeats all of the information he’s put together–his age, birthday, Hyde’s background, where he lived before Millport, his parents’ names and jobs.

Then he packs his bag and walks out of the motel. 

* * *

 

Millport is good to them for most of a year. Unfortunately, when it goes bad, it goes bad _spectacularly_.

Neil’s fingers are white-knuckled, they’re clenched so tightly in Hyde’s ruff. He can feel that it hurts, distantly, but they’re both too focused on the way their life is falling apart to consider it.

“You can’t be here,” Neil says to David Wymack, and his lips are numb. “No one recruits from Millport. No one even knows where it is.”

That was the _point_ after all.

“There’s this thing called a map, kid. Need a pen?”

“No,” Neil says.

“I misheard you.”

Neil can feel Hyde coiling beside him, his own muscles tensing like a runner on the starting block.

“You signed Kevin.”

“And Kevin’s signing you, so—”

They don’t need anything more than that. Hyde flings himself at Wymack, over a hundred pounds of furious bondwolf, and Neil takes off running. Hyde can handle himself, they’ll find each other once they’re out of Millport. He hears Hernandez exclaim something, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is getting out of this trap they’ve accidentally walked into.

He’s almost halfway through the locker room when he realizes he’s not alone. It doesn’t help much. Light glints on a bright yellow racquet, and Neil is going too fast to stop. He barely manages to twist and tighten the muscles of his stomach, taking the blow on one side, instead of directly to his diaphragm.

It still knocks the wind out of him, and he hits his knees, trying to get his breath back.

He can feel Hyde coming, feel _:fury!:_ like it’s his own, and barely manages to send back _:hold! can’t kill, wolves and children—:_

Hyde understands, little as he likes it, and checks his lunge for the throat into just putting his body between Neil and his attacker, lips peeled in a snarl.

Neil catches his breath, leaning on the steady rhythm of his brother’s lungs to find his own breathing.

When he can finally inhale without choking, Neil looks up, and he recognizes the person smiling down at him.

“God _dammit_ , Minyard,” Wymack says from behind him. “This is why we can’t have nice things.”

Andrew Minyard just smiles broader, and steps back from Neil and Hyde. “Oh Coach, if he were nice, he wouldn’t be worth our time.”

“He’s no use if you break him.”

“Put a band-aid on him and a muzzle on his puppy, and they’ll be good as new,” Minyard says, and Neil’s vision nearly whites out with rage.

“ _Fuck you_ ,” he snarls, struggling his way to his feet. Minyard just keeps smiling.

“Better luck next time,” he says, giving a two fingered salute, before tossing the racquet to Neil.

“Are you okay?” Wymack asks, and Neil breathes carefully. There’s none of the familiar agony of a fractured or broken rib, though so he draws himself together.

“I’m fine,” he says, keeping his eyes front as Hyde examines the room.

 _:startlement:_ burns through their mind in a split second, as Hyde catches sight of Kevin Day, perched on the entertainment center and watching with an unimpressed gaze.

“We’re leaving,” Neil says, because he can’t deal with this right now, because it’s senseless to listen to someone offer him a dream he can never accept.

His feet don’t move.

* * *

It’s late when Neil gets home, and his side is one solid ache. It’ll probably bruise beautifully, but Neil’s ignored worse. He unzips the duffel bag, and pulls out the stack of papers he took, against his better judgement.

“This is _stupid_ ,” he says softly.

 _:can always run,:_ Hyde says, practical. _:highway-stink, airport-roar, coolness of a forest.:_

 _:not subtle,:_ Neil replies, _:too visible, hard to run, more eyes.:_

_:subtle is for people with options.:_

_:we have options_ now _. patience, graduation, tangled highways—:_

Hyde sighs, shifting to rest his head on Neil’s thigh. He looks up at Neil and says, _:even wolves can’t run forever,:_ sad and flavored with the sea salt and stink of burning that is Neil’s newest scent-name.

“I know,” Neil says softly.

He touches the papers, spreads across the floor of the house they’re squatting in. They don’t feel real. They feel like a dream masquerading as printer paper.

His mother would kill him for even considering this. He should never have taken the forms from Wymack.

 _:gunsmoke-and-gasoline isn’t_ here _.:_ Hyde says softly, and it hurts. It hurts so much. They’re no good at this alone.

Neil’s mother would have killed him for his carelessness, would have shredded the contract and had them back on the road hours ago, and they’re not sure they agree but. The corner of their mind she occupied, her acrid scent-name alight in the pack-sense, is so empty now.

“It’s still a stupid idea,” Neil says. “We shouldn’t—there’s too much chance of being found.”

Hyde huffs. _:highway stink?:_

 _:hide/run? or fight/hunt?:_ Neil asks instead of answering, touching a finger to a line waiting for a signature. He _wants_ , but he knows how stupid it is. How easily he could talk himself into thinking this is okay if it was just him.

He doesn’t just risk himself. He hasn’t since he was thirteen years old.

Hyde stills for a moment and then says, decisive, _:fight/hunt. joy-in-hunting, run when suspicious?:_

Neil breathes. Kevin doesn’t seem like the kind of person who could keep his suspicions secret, especially not from someone so nearby. And Neil is—morbidly curious, really, how Kevin managed to move past that day in Evermore, and Neil never could.

He signs his name. They’ll run as soon as Kevin gets suspicious, as soon as they’re recovered enough for the road again.

Neil wishes that thought didn’t taste so much like an excuse.

* * *

The flight to South Carolina is straightforward, even if Neil can’t quite suppress his nerves every time someone wants to look at Hyde’s paperwork. Most of the time, they haven’t bothered to fly together. It’s a new stress, not yet worn smooth with practice, worrying about whether or not Hyde, with his pale eyes and scars, has grown up distinctive.

The crowd, as they make their way to Arrivals, is a good size, and it’s tempting, to just vanish into the swirl of humanity, and start running again.

 _:even wolves can’t run forever,:_ Hyde reminds him, and Neil blows out a breath, pressing a knee to his brother’s barrel.

 _:I know,:_ he says. It doesn’t stop the opportunity from being tempting, but they’re both exhausted, and if they keep running they’re probably going to make some spectacularly stupid mistake. Some _other_ spectacularly stupid mistake.

Besides, now that he’s looking, it’s easy to spot the ride Wymack arranged.

It’s one of the twins, clearly, dressed all in black and taking up a spot against the wall. The lack of smile makes Neil think that it must be Aaron, but assumptions will get them killed.

 _:scent-clarity?:_ he asks Hyde, as he hitches the strap of his duffel higher on his shoulder and they start to make their way over.

_:muddle, will tell when closer if new/known:_

“Neil,” whichever Minyard it is says, once they’re within speaking distance. “Baggage claim is over there.”

Hyde sneezes at Neil’s hip, sending _:sugar-steel-faint-chemical:_ with an overtone of his own wariness and worry.

That’s...interesting. Neil can’t imagine, after their dynamic meeting, that Wymack would have sent Andrew to pick him up, but Hyde’s nose doesn’t lie, not at this distance.

“Just this,” Neil says, raising the shoulder his bag is slung over, and Andrew doesn’t comment, just leading the way out into the sunlight.

The car he stops by in the parking lot is surprisingly nice. Neil doesn’t know much about cars, but he knows expensive when he sees it.

“Bag in the trunk, and your brother can have the back seat,” Andrew says, opening the driver’s door to sit down and smoke a cigarette.

It doesn’t take Neil long to drop his bag, and let Hyde into the car, but Andrew doesn’t move until he’s smoked half of the cigarette, at which point he flicks it out and slams his door closed.

The car is silent as they make their way out of the airport, but as they head towards the highway, Andrew says, “Neil Hidesbrother Josten,”as though he’s testing Neil’s full name.

In the back seat, Hyde huffs softly at the mistake, _:amusement,:_ flickering across his mind. Neil resists the urge to smirk. They’ve become experts at hearing the subtle distinction of vowels, over the years, and it’s. Well, it’s not exactly funny, but it’s a good joke anyway.

“You’re here for the summer, which means there are five of us,” Andrew continues, “but word is you’re staying with Coach.”

Wymack said that the cousins would be on campus, but the numbers aren’t right, which means—

“Kevin stays on campus?”

“It’s where the court is,” Andrew says, derisive. “Kevin can’t exist without it.”

Neil taps his fingers and looks out the window. The articles about Kevin’s move to the Foxes haven’t all been flattering, but they all admit that since Kevin’s transfer, he hasn’t been seen out of Andrew’s company. “I didn’t think the court was the reason Kevin stayed,” he says.

Andrew doesn’t answer, just cuts across traffic in a display of careless driving that makes Neil raise an eyebrow. He might have learned to drive while still too short for it to be comfortable, on back roads where it didn’t matter how bad he was, but he doubts Andrew has the same excuse.

“I heard you and Kevin didn’t get along when you met,” Andrew says, like he thought he could hide his identity from Hyde.

“We weren’t warned,” Neil says. “Maybe you’ll forgive us for reacting badly.”

“I don’t believe in forgiveness, and I wasn’t offended anyway,” Andrew says. “Still, this is the second time one of Kevin’s recruits has told him to fuck off. I think he’s losing faith in the intelligence of high schoolers.”

“I’m sure you had your reasons,” Neil says, keeping his eyes fixed on the scenery out the car window, relying on Hyde’s eyes to watch Andrew’s expression. “I have mine.”

There’s a pause, an almost audible hesitation while Andrew processes that. His expression doesn’t so much as twitch, but Neil can feel that he’s scored a point.

“Well,” Andrew says finally. “Maybe you will be interesting. For a little while, at least.”

Neil wishes that didn’t sound so much like a threat. He’s never wanted to be interesting.

* * *

Wymack’s apartment is overflowing with paperwork and full ashtrays. Neil’s lived far worse places, even if he’s not sure how well he or Hyde are going to handle living with Wymack in particular.

When Andrew mentions taking him to the court, Neil and Hyde do a quick mental calculation of the space in the car, the number of people going, and keeping their things safe.

It ends with Neil dropping his bag on Wymack’s couch, and Hyde leaping up to pillow his head on it, taking up most of the couch without any apparent effort.

“What’s that about?” Wymack asks, once Hyde is settled and has permitted himself a single yawn, showing off his teeth.

“Hyde won’t fit in the car,” Neil says  “So he has to stay here. I asked him to guard.”

“Why?”

Neil’s fingers clench convulsively, and he wishes his mother was here, that his pack was whole. He’s no good at this without her. He can still taste the _:gunsmoke-and-gasoline:_ of her name in the back of his throat.

 _:sorrow to sorrow,:_ Hyde agrees.

“It’s all we have,” Neil says finally.  He doesn’t look at Wymack, just shrugs and shoves his hands into his pockets. “I’d better get going, before Andrew comes looking.”

* * *

 

Drills with Nicky and Aaron are interesting, but scrimmaging against them is amazing. It’s also an exercise in learning how far Neil still has to go before he’s ready. Nicky and Aaron may not be the best backliners in the NCAA, but they’re still better than anyone Neil has played. It’s humbling, but exciting too, the way that every action requires more thought, the way he has to fight harder to even attempt a shot on goal.

When Aaron calls them to a stop, Neil fights down his disappointment. He’s tired, but far from exhausted. Still, it’s Nicky and Aaron’s summer that they’re spending to train him. He doesn’t have the right to push for more.

As they file off the court, Neil glances over at Kevin, who looks dissatisfied with his performance. “This is going to be a very long season,” Kevin says, after a moment.

Neil can feel Hyde’s hackles starting to rise, even at this distance. He stops and meets Kevin’s eyes.

“I told you I wasn’t ready,” he says, trying for the even temper Neil Josten is supposed to have.

“You also said you wouldn’t play with me,” Kevin says, reaching out and tangling his fingers in the net of Neil’s racquet. He tugs, but Neil refuses to let go, and Kevin seems to be content to have captured Neil’s attention.

“If you’re not playing with me, you’ll play for me.” Kevin says. “You’re not going to get there on your own. Give your game to me.”

“Where’s ‘there’?” Neil asks.

“If you can’t figure that out,” he says, impatient, “there’s no hope for you.”

Hyde yawns so broadly and pointedly that Neil can feel it in his own jaw, even though Kevin can’t see it, and Neil just stares back at Kevin. They’re not the kind of person that ‘there’ applies to.

Kevin scowls, and reaches out to cover Neil’s eyes with his free hand. It takes all of Neil’s self control to keep from flinching as Kevin’s palm settles over his eyes, and Hyde growls softly, lifting his head from where he’s been resting it on Wymack’s couch.

“Forget the stadium. Forget your contract and your awful high school team and your parents. Look at it the only way that matters, where Exy is all there is. What do you see?”

Neil swallows down an ugly laugh at that pointless idea, and Kevin must notice, because he tugs sharply on Neil’s racquet.

“Focus.”

 _:vodka-old-paper careless,:_ Hyde sends, _:sparrow-bothering-bobcat, seems-safe, seems-safe,_ snap. _:_

Neil breathes, swallows the phantom taste of blood from Hyde’s sending. His brother’s patience with Kevin’s games is limited, much like Neil’s is.

But.

Neil tries to imagine what it would be like if Neil Josten were real, were truly all there was. If Hyde was just the backwoods-bred wolf his paperwork declares him. Tries to imagine a life where Exy really could be all that matters, where he doesn’t always have one eye on the horizon.

It’s cruel for Kevin to even ask the question, escapee that he is. Kevin was able to move past a bloody room at Edgar Allen, and even if Neil does the same, he’s never going to be able to focus only on Exy anyway.

But that’s the answer Kevin wants, isn’t it?

Neil licks his lips and lies.

“You,” he says, and Kevin gives his racquet one more tug, before letting go and removing his hand from over Neil’s eyes.

“Give your game to me,” Kevin repeats.

Neil is going to be long gone before the end of the year. It’s not going to do Kevin much good.

“Take it.”

* * *

 

The next morning, Hyde and Neil start exploring campus, memorizing its layout, nearby roads and beginning to plan escape routes. When they’re finally satisfied, they set out on a long run, gradually looping back around to the stadium in time to eat lunch and for Neil to change out privately.

When the others finally arrive, he’s waiting just outside the court doors, Hyde’s head on his knee. The wolf is half asleep, but as soon as they hear the doors open, Hyde blinks back to wakefulness.

They watch silently as Kevin shoves a laughing Andrew into the home goal, and Neil stands up and walks onto the court when Kevin makes a peremptory gesture.

 _:don’t die_ , _:_ Hyde says as the doors close behind Neil, and Neil sends back a mental shove, before letting Hyde fade into the back of his mind, the barriers between them thickening.

It takes just over an hour of Neil scrimmaging with Aaron, Andrew and Nicky for Kevin to completely lose his patience. He calls an abrupt halt and gestures at the backliners with his racquet. “Get out. Both of you, get out right now.”

“Oh thank God,” Nicky says, running for the door. Kevin waits until Aaron has closed the court door, and then grabs the front of Neil’s helmet, dragging him towards Andrew’s goal. Andrew perks up, standing straight finally.

Kevin lets go of Neil’s helmet when they reach the foul line. “Ball,” he snaps, and Andrew tosses it over. Kevin pushes it against Neil’s chest until Neil takes it. “You stay here and fire on Andrew until he’s tired. Maybe you’ll manage to score once.”

“Uh-oh,” Andrew says. “This won’t end well.”

Kevin doesn’t seem to care, turning and leaving, the door slamming behind him. Neil rolls his shoulders, and collects the buckets of balls on first-fourth, before heading to the foul line to start his shots.

Andrew hadn’t cared to stop Kevin’s shots, but Neil doesn’t earn the same consideration. Shot after shot, Andrew smacks the ball all the way back down the court. It’s exhausting, and it hurts, but Neil doesn’t stop, just lets everything fade into the same dull ache and the need to get a single shot in. It’s a familiar mindset.

And then, then he takes a swing and the racquet flies out of his hands. There’s a moment where all he can do is stare, while Andrew laughs, sharp and short.

 _:step right/back_ so _far!:_ Hyde snaps in his head, and Neil is moving before his mind processes the thought, stumbling out of the way of the returned shot. The ball flies past his face to slam into the back wall of the court, just like the last however many shots Andrew has returned.

“Let’s go,” Andrew says. “Tick tock. I don’t have that much patience.”

He knows it’s a bad idea, but their pride is pricked, and Hyde is fierce in his head, competitive. They go for their racquet, and even wrapping their fingers around it hurts, now that they’ve been startled from their intent monotony. Trying to lift it high enough to swing just has their arm spasming, fingers coming loose of their own accord. The racquet clatters back to the floor.

“Oh dear,” Andrew says, still smiling, smiling, smiling. “Looks like you’re having some trouble.”

Crouching down, they reach for the racquet. Their muscles are trembling, tangling together, but they manage to get their fingers around the stick and to lift it, to try for another shot. Andrew is leaning on his racquet, watching them try with sharp amusement, vindicated when they can barely get the stick to shoulder height before they have to drop it.

“Can you, or can’t you?” Andrew asks.

Bowing to any pressure is so foreign that they want to swallow their tongue instead of admit defeat.

“I’m done,” they force out, the words sour in their mouth, and Neil breathes, pushes his brother back from the forefront of his mind.

Andrew leaves the goal, stopping just a little ways from Neil, with one foot on his racquet. Neil tries to pull it out, but his muscles are jelly, in a way that nothing has done to him in a long time.

“Get off my racquet.”

“Make me?” Andrew says, spreading his arms in invitation. “Or, well, try, anyway.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Neil says, and Hyde is in full snarl, but they’re on opposite sides of a _plexiglass wall,_  he can’t reach his brother.

“Such fierce words from someone so small,” Andrew says. “You’re not very bright, are you? Typical jock.”

“Hypocrite,” Neil says, and Andrew just gives him a sunny smile and a thumbs-up, before brushing past him.

Neil manages to hold his feet, just barely, until he hears the court doors close behind Andrew.

It’s pointless bravado, and when he collapses, his vision flickers black for several seconds, as if an admonishment. Exhausted, his body one huge ache, he lies on his back and stares up through the court ceiling.

 _:stupid to leave no reserves to heal/run/fight,:_ Hyde says, not without understanding. When Neil finally musters the energy to roll onto his side, he can see his brother seated primly outside the court. His pale eyes are fixed on Neil.

“I should have done cross-country,” Neil says aloud, pointlessly. He doesn’t need to explain his pride to the person who shares it with him.

Hyde’s laughter is crisp and clean and delighted as an autumn wind blowing through Neil’s head. The wolf’s mouth opens into a tongue-lolling grin, and he agrees, _:swiftness-against-others, would never have been caught.:_

“Wouldn’t have been as fun though.”

 _:no struggle-fight-hunt, adrenaline and clever tricks,:_ Hyde agrees, and he and Neil just rest, minds in accord, the walls between them spun as thin as they dare. It was stupid, on that they’re agreed. They both also agree that they couldn’t have done anything else.

Neil waits, and breathes, his thundering heart slowing down. When he can finally stand again, he cleans the court, painful and painstakingly before making his way to the locker room. Peeling off his uniform, and changing is almost more than his arms are up to.

“Dammit,” he says to himself, in an empty locker room.

 _:season’s turn, cubs running further each day,:_ Hyde says from the lounge, and he’s right. Neil needs to pace himself, to take this one step, one day, at a time. If he tries to keep practicing like this, he’s not going to be able to play at all by the time August rolls around.

The run back to Wymack’s place is slower than it was in the morning, and Neil and Hyde make sure to keep their pace easy.

When they reach Wymack’s building they take the steps up to the seventh floor, and find the apartment unlocked. Wymack is waiting for them in the hall just inside the door, a can of coffee grounds in his head and an expression like a thundercloud.

Neil is instantly wary, and the walls that he and Hyde keep between them spin down to gossamer-thin in a breath. He shifts, as subtly as he can, to one side of the hall, so that he and Hyde both have room to move.

“Kevin called me,” Wymack says. “He said you shouldn’t be on the court tomorrow, and that instead I should entertain you with past games. He also said you tried to blow out your arms against Andrew. I said you weren’t that stupid. Which one of us is right?”

“I might have gotten carried away.” Neil says, not exactly evasive, keeping his eyes fixed on Wymack’s chest and Hyde at the forefront of his mind. There’s not much room in the hallway, and he’s not risking Wymack’s temper without knowing exactly where his brother is. They might need to run, and they can’t afford to foul each other.

Wymack growls, and tosses the coffee to him. Neil catches it instinctively, but his fingers won’t close, and it slips from his hands, bouncing off the floor at his feet and spilling grounds everywhere.

“You idiot,” Wymack snarls, stalking towards Neil.

The retreat and shuffle of places is so instinctive that Neil doesn’t realize he and Hyde have moved until Wymack freezes.

Hyde is between them, ears lowered and tail tucked, obvious submission in every line of him, but he’s still interposed himself between Wymack and Neil. His pale eyes are still wary, watching Wymack carefully. Neil’s own eyes are lowered too, but he doesn’t dare look away entirely. Neither of them do. Even more than being aware of where the other is, Neil and Hyde need to know what Wymack does.

The anger drains from Wymack’s face, leaving the man’s expression dangerously blank, and Neil waits for several long moments before it becomes obvious that Wymack isn’t going to speak first.

“It was a mistake,” Neil says quietly. “Won’t happen again.”

Wymack doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t come closer either. Neil and Hyde don’t dare move, caught in the endless breathless moment between anticipation and pain. Neil’s vision flickers perspective, color, field of vision, and he can feel his breathing synchronize with his brother’s, their heartbeats falling into similar patterns.

Eventually Wymack points at the ground in front of him. “Come here. No,” he says, when Neil bends down to clean up the mess at his feet. “Leave it.”

Neil steps over the coffee grounds to stand just barely within arm's reach of Wymack. Hyde shifts to allow it, but he remains pressed close, keeps displaying wary submission in every line. Neither of them are quite out of reach, but they’ve got enough room to dodge, or to mitigate a blow. It’s a trick Neil has long perfected, and that Hyde learned from him.

“Look at me,” Wymack says, voice perfectly even. “Right now.”

Neil drags his eyes up to Wymack’s face, which is still far too blank for safety. He knows better than to disobey a direct order, but he fixes his eyes on Wymacks’ cheekbones, and refuses to meet the man’s eyes.

“I want you to understand something,” Wymack says, still in that perfectly even voice that makes Neil want to run. “I am a grumpy old man. I yell a lot, and I throw things. But unless someone provokes me, I don’t throw the first punch, and I’m not about to start with you. Understand?”

Neil does his best to keep the disbelief out of his face and voice and says “Yes, Coach.”

“I’m serious. Don’t you dare be more afraid of me than you are of Andrew.”

 _:steel-sugar-chemical untried, still growing into claws,:_ Neil and Hyde think, thoughts sliding easily between their close-linked minds. _:dangerous but not yet polished-fine. oak-whisky-smoke ready and still and subtle at need. (hands at their throat, fire in their shoulder, stronger/older/dangerous):_

Still, Neil doesn’t dare say anything but “Yes Coach.”

“I already ate, but I put the leftovers and meat for your brother in the fridge. I’ll take care of this mess, you two take care of you.”

Neil and Hyde eat to the sound of the vacuum, listening warily. But Wymack doesn’t say anything more to them, and eventually they curl into each other on Wymack’s small couch, so close they might be one being, lungs and hearts falling into synchronicity.

* * *

“Clean up your damn wolf,” Wymack says one evening, when Neil and Hyde walk back into the apartment after another day of drills. Neil stares at him, not sure he heard right, for several minutes. Wymack just scowls back.

“This place is enough of a mess without your brother tracking muddy footprints through here for the next three weeks,” he expands eventually. “There’s soap in the bathroom. Get all that dirt off of him.”

Neil’s fingers tighten on Hyde’s fur, and the two of them don’t move for a long moment. Finally, Hyde sighs and turns to nudge Neil’s elbow.

 _:itches some,:_ he admits, and Neil nods slowly, his eyes still on Wymack. They make their way, careful as always, down the hall to the bathroom, where there is, in fact, a bottle of shampoo that’ll work to scrub out Hyde’s coat.

Bathing a bondwolf who’s over three feet at the shoulder, and just under five and a half feet from nose to tip of his tail in Wymack’s tiny bathroom is more of an adventure than Neil was really anticipating. To begin with, Hyde doesn’t exactly fit into the bathtub. The problems only escalate from there.

It’s not even in the running for the worst experience Neil has had bathing his brother, though. To begin with, there’s running water and soap. None of that, though, stops it from taking nearly two hours to get Hyde’s coat to run clear instead of muddy. It also takes most of the bottle of shampoo, and enough hair to have clogged Wymack’s drain several times over, if Neil hadn’t taken precautions.

Once they’re done, Hyde still isn’t exactly what any kind of groomer would call clean, but he’s as close as he’ll get without specialized soap and a lot more space. His coat still looks the same mud brown as always, but at least Wymack won’t have any cause to complain.

Neil towels his brother off as best he can, and then the two of them step out of the apartment to let Hyde sunbathe and dry off outside, instead of dripping onto Wymack’s floors.

It takes a few hours, which Neil doesn’t really begrudge. Being able to just lean against Hyde’s side, and enjoy having his brother with him is a new experience. There was never any opportunity when they were on the run with his mother, if Hyde was even nearby, and in Millport Hyde spent most of his time hunting or sleeping.

By the time the sun is setting and the air is cooling off, Hyde’s coat is merely somewhat damp, and the coloring that dirt had concealed is clear for the first time in months—grey with black dappling across his back, and a reddish face and legs. He’s striking enough that it makes both of them uncomfortable, even if no one who’s looking for them should know what Hyde looks like anymore.

Neil sighs, and runs his fingers along an old, puckered scar that runs across Hyde’s flank, long since hidden by thick fur.

 _:doesn’t hurt anymore,:_ Hyde says gently, turning his head to nudge Neil’s thigh.

“I know,” Neil says. “Let’s go in.”

When Wymack sees them come back in, he just raises an eyebrow. “Never would have expected he was that color under all the dirt,” he says, and goes back to his paperwork.

And that’s that.

* * *

Meeting Matt is significantly less violent than meeting Andrew and Kevin, and less fraught than Neil’s introduction to Aaron and Nicky, thankfully. Not that either is a high bar to clear.

Unfortunately, moving into Fox Tower comes with the attendant need to buy _things_ that’s entirely foreign to Neil. He takes Hyde with him, to share the load, and buys what he needs for life in Fox Tower as efficiently as possible, without lingering or sentimentality. It’s not much—sheets, a light blanket for if it gets chilly, school supplies. A safe, and an extra lock for it.

It’s once he’s done that he hesitates. Across the shopping center from where he’s picked up his essentials there’s a small store that looks entirely of a type with half a dozen others he and his mother made their way into over the years. The store’s name is nondescript, but the better places usually are anyway.

 _:hunting sharpness?:_ Hyde asks, his ears pricking as he notices where Neil’s attention is focused.

 _:balancing-scales,:_ Neil replies. _:fear-wariness under eyes/options for escape?:_

 _:hunting sharpness,:_ Hyde responds, firmly. _:options for escape/fight/defend. baring proper teeth in threat.:_

Neil breathes out slowly as he walks into the store, because Hyde’s right, but he’s never enjoyed these necessities.

Inside, the lights gleam off of case after case of knives and survival tools. Neil’s shoulders tighten, but he and his mother spent too many months breaking their trail by camping across rough country for him to squirm away from this. He’s not foolish enough to think that he won’t need to disappear into the woods sometime soon. His last set of knives are buried in Millport, gotten rid of right before he had to board a plane. It’s better to have the new ones before he needs them.

He’s practical about the knives—he doesn’t pick out the best, just good enough. They’re more or less disposable anyway—the next time he has to fly he’ll need to trash these too. He picks out a selection of cheaper, good quality blades, mostly folding knives, and a good multitool, and pays for them.

Once they’re outside, Neil finds a bench and methodically removes every knife from it’s packaging, accumulating a small pile of weaponry by his side. Once they’re all unpacked, he reaches out to Hyde, who shuffles close with good grace.

Hyde’s standard harness is a soft brown-grey that blends into his fur, and only a few people have ever noticed the small pockets and pouches attached to it. Neil busies himself with tucking his knives away, pocketing the two that don’t fit, along with the multitool.

He’s not going to wear the knives in public, because he caught at _least_ three knives on Andrew the other day, and he’s not prepared to be asked about his own. But they’ll be good to have, if he and Hyde need to run.

He and Hyde make good time, but Matt’s truck is already back, and when he passes, the door to the girls’ room is open. Still, he doesn’t slow down to chat, just hurries back to the room with his purchases. When he tests the door, he’s relieved to find it still locked.

He dumps the Walmart bags on the floor, and starts to sort through them, mostly interested in getting the safe set up. Hyde follows him in, loose and easy with the little bit of exercise, and then freezes, _:fury:_ flashing from him to Neil like a bolt of lightning.

There’s a scent in the room that wasn’t there before they left, something more than the staleness of an empty room, Matt’s surface scent—mostly comprised of slightly too much Axe—and their own.

Neil and Hyde breathe slowly, in unison, and Neil half-closes his eyes, like his own pathetically human nose can pick up what Hyde knows is there.

 _steel-sugar-chemical_ , they both recognize, and Neil bares his teeth with rage, before digging out his duffel bag.

Just like he expected, the bag has been rifled through. Andrew was careful about it, put everything back in the same layers and same order and folded the same, but the tags are flat now, not with the careful bends Neil always leaves. The heavy hiking backpack that Hyde has sometimes worn instead of his subtle harness has been messed with too, the whole thing lying perfectly flat when Neil always leaves the straps carefully twisted

Pulling the clothes and backpack out in a few frantic motions, Neil digs out the binder underneath, flipping through page after page of newspaper clippings and photographs and printouts, checking in the inner pocket of each page protector.

His documents seem fine—the fake optometrist’s note, the script for his colored contacts, Hyde’s false pedigree, medical history and Emotional Support Animal paperwork are all there. The nursery rhyme that hides how to find his mother’s contacts hasn’t been touched, and neither has the coded page with Stuart Hatford’s number on it. The money, once Neil takes a moment to thumb through it all, is all present. All six digits of it.

Neil breathes out, feeling the anger curl in his stomach, hot and cold together. Andrew came in and looked through his bag, which Neil probably should have expected, given just how little respect Andrew Minyard seems to have for anyone. But he didn’t, and now someone has taken a good hard look at all the things Neil keeps secret in order to survive.

Hyde presses close against his back, and Neil briefly thinks about the new knives his brother keeps close, and the coldness thrumming in his veins. It would be easy, he thinks. No one expects him. He’s spent a lot of time working on that, on Neil Josten not being the type to start fights, and definitely not being the type to finish them.

Hyde whines, and Neil shuts his eyes, takes another breath, and bows his head. He doesn’t want to be that kind of person.

Hyde leans harder against Neil’s back. There's a brief blankness, a flash of _what was i thinking about again?_ that Hyde soothes away, and Neil refocuses on the situation at hand. This boundary needs to be set now, as hard as he can set it.

He slides a finger into the spine of the binder, and pulls out two slender pieces of metal, the last pieces of his mother’s lockpicking set.

He wishes he still had the ring of bump keys, but that’s been gone for years now, and he’s learned to live without. He holds the picks between his lips as he sets the lock on his safe, putting away the binder and the extra knives.

Taking the picks out of his mouth, he stalks out of the room, Hyde at his side and the hot anger still sparking in his gut. He pauses only long enough to make sure that the door locks behind him, before making his way to the cousins’ room.

 _:snap-and-snarl,:_ Hyde growls in the back of his head, as Neil examines the door and its lock. _:savaging intruders.:_

The dorm locks were clearly not built with people like Neil and Andrew in mind, because it only takes a moment of exploration with his picks for Neil to know the mechanism like the back of his hand. The lock clicks open easily, and he tucks the picks away in his pocket.

He pauses for a moment, leaning his shoulder against Hyde's, letting _:savaging-rage:_ curl between them and set their mind alight.

Then he stands up, curls his lip to bare the faintest glint of incisor, and shoves the door open.

* * *

Once the whole team is in residence, practices kick up, and it quickly becomes clear that the Foxes’ reputation for being a shattered wreck of a team is well-earned. It takes nearly a week for Dan, with her steel spine and undeniable rule, to thrash the team back into a rough hierarchy.

Neil and Hyde stay out of it, but they watch intently as a pack structure, confusing and highly antagonistic though it is, eventually emerges from the wreck of the Foxes’ clashing personalities. Dan is unquestionably at the top, which surprises neither of them.

 _:queen,:_ Hyde comments one day, _:but without loud/annoying/pushy.:_

Neil shrugs. His experience with queen bitches is limited to meeting his uncle’s sister, years before he met Hyde, and Silk had no interest in a child not of the Hatford pack. Hyde, on the other hand, has had at least a couple more encounters with konigenwolves, and enjoyed precisely none of them.

As the Foxes slowly fall into line under their captain, Hyde slowly begins to provide names for them all. The cousins and Kevin he’s long since named, and they’re all sharp. Besides Andrew’s _:steel-sugar-chemical:_ and Kevin’s _:vodka-old-paper,:_ there’s Nicky, _:cayenne-and-incense,:_ and Aaron, _:ink-and-ozone:._

Dan becomes _:rich-earth-after-heavy-rain:_ and Matt is _:sweat-and-leather,:_ which seems odd until he offhandedly mentions that he boxes. Seth, who doesn’t care much for Neil, and whose antipathy Neil shares, is _:tomcat-and-city-street,:_ all reeking arrogance. Allison, never without perfume, is eventually described as _:rotting-flowers:_ by an exasperated and sneezing Hyde.

Renee’s scent-name is the most uncomfortable. She’s also the only one to provide her name, instead of leaving it to Hyde.

“One of my relatives has a wolf,” she explains, when she offers. “He named me a few years ago, and I thought it might help you to know it? It seems like it would be easier for you.”

Hyde eyes her warily, before he relents and sends _:query/self?:_ carefully bare of emotional overtone.

Renee frowns a little, concentrating, and then _:steel-and-lake-water:_ fills Hyde’s nose, a chilly, wintry smell, full of ice and incipient violence.

Neil breathes slowly, as Hyde draws back from Renee’s mind, scent-name memorized.

It’s a stark, sharp name, incongruous with Renee’s dyed hair, constant smile, and the silver cross she wears at her neck. They don’t like it—there have been people with scent-names different from how they appear before, and every time, it has ended badly.

“Thanks,” Neil says, trying not to let on how rattled they are, and Renee just smiles. The fact she keeps her mouth closed would be comforting on anyone else. On her, it just feels like a threat masquerading as politeness.

* * *

When Andrew said Neil was coming to Columbia with the rest of his group, Neil had certain expectations for where a group of college athletes with dubious morals might choose to spend their time.

Eden’s Twilight fits none of them.

Neil avoids the offer of alcohol, as much for the memories associated as because he can’t afford to lose control, but that turns out not to matter, given that the cousins seem to have the bartender in their pocket.

Neil’s not sure what the cracker dust is going to do, not when so many drugs affect him strangely, but he’s absolutely sure he’s not going to like it. Already, his ability to control his body is going, and the club noise is rapidly becoming unbearable, like someone’s turned his hearing up to match Hyde’s.

“Stop fighting,” Nicky advises, holding Neil up on the dance floor and barely flinching as Neil’s nails rake his arms bloody. “This is just how it goes, okay?”

Neil would snarl, except that Nicky’s mouth is hard against his and the vodka does nothing to mask the taste of cracker dust. It burns, and Neil wants to spit, but it hurts and his thoughts aren’t connecting right, and he swallows instead.

There’s a few seconds before the second dose of dust starts to hit, and Neil uses it to hiss, “ _Fuck you,_ ” at Nicky.

Nicky’s eyes are level as he says, “Good luck,” and vanishes into the crowd. Neil nearly falls, but their walls are thinned to mist—since when?—and so Hyde whispers close, braces his knees, reminds him how balance works. It’s still hard to hear him, somehow, around the noise in Neil’s head, but they’re both determined.

Neil can see a fire exit, fixes his eyes on the sign and forces his body to move. Hyde’s help makes it easier, but Neil still has to manage the finer aspects. His mind already feels raw, the noise making it hard to focus.

He’s angry. That helps.

It doesn’t help enough, of course, because that’s the way his life goes. He’s only just made it to the outskirts of the crowd on the dancefloor when a hand at the small of his back _shoves_ , and he stumbles into the back wall.

It’s Andrew, of course. Neil can practically taste his name, _:steel-sugar-chemical:_ burning on the tongue. It makes both of them want to lunge, wash it away with the taste of hot iron, but it’s taking everything Neil has to just keep standing, so they settle for baring their teeth as their minds snap together, fury and fear turning them incandescent.

“Having a good time?” Andrew asks, and they snarl their hate back at him. This body’s voice box can’t achieve the tonalities of the other, but they give it their best attempt anyway. Andrew does not look impressed.

It takes them a moment to remember how to speak, but they’ve had practice at being this bad.

“What do you want,” they finally growl out, once they’ve adjusted, remembered how it works.

“Answers.”

“How about you mind—” and their meshed self _slips_ , shatters, leaves Neil echoingly alone in his head “—your fucking business,” he finishes. Neil is reeling, head too loud, but he’s _angry_ too, at the way he can’t control the colors he sees, at the way Hyde is always too close/so far away, muffled under the effects of the drugs Neil didn’t want.

Andrew makes himself comfortable against the wall. “Tonight is Mind Neil’s Business Night, if you hadn’t noticed. Now give me something real, or I’ll make sure you can’t stay here.”

“Why?”

Andrew is very still, and in the alternately dim and dazzling lights of the club, his expression is difficult to read, no matter how close he is.

“Because I don’t trust you,” he says after a moment. “Because you’re a fabrication, complete with bondwolf, a know-nothing from Arizona who caught Kevin’s eye and showed up with a bag full of cash and a stalker shrine to Kevin and Riko. You have no good reason to be here.”

It takes a minute for the dots to connect—Hyde isn’t always good at human politics, and Neil can’t hear himself _think_ the club is so loud and the drug-haze so bad.

“Are you fucking _serious?_ ” Neil finally manages to grit out, struggling to find the steady balance he _knows_ should exist between himself and his brother, trying to focus his eyes around the bright sparks in his vision that have nothing to do with the club lights. “I’m not _spying_ , not for the Ravens and not for anyone else.”

Andrew leans close, until Neil has no trouble making out his expression.

“Can you prove that, runaway?”

Neil wants to snarl at the invasion of his space, wants to flinch at the name, but the noise in his head—like a hundred strangers shouting directly into his ear—chooses that moment to spike abruptly, drowning Hyde out completely. Neil can’t help the agonized noise he makes, the way he flinches back against the wall, because without Hyde there to buffer the noise, to fill his head, to hold onto, it’s _so much worse_.

He can’t even focus on Andrew—a threat and too-close to boot—around the pain.

“Hyde,” Neil says, _begs_ , reaching for his brother like a lifeline, because he can’t keep his thoughts together alone, the lights are too bright and the music too loud and his mind is fracturing at the edges, “Hyde, _please_.” He can’t keep his thoughts together and if people keep pushing their secrets are going to come out and he doesn’t know whose will get them killed first.

 _:shred him, steel-sugar-chemical_ gobbets _on the pavement, taste of blood!:_ Hyde snarls, his voice coming back, filling Neil’s head and Neil shudders at the way it pierces through the roar in his skull. Hyde’s thoughts are sharp and painful against his own, like right after they first bonded, like right after Dublin. There’s a sense of Hyde checking himself, and then his impressions gentle. _:gasoline and green, the ache of a long run ahead. how?:_

“ _Please_ ,” Neil says, or tries to say. He’s not sure if the word even makes it out of his mouth, let alone in the right language. It’s too loud, too bright, and he longs for the quiet darkness of nights in the woods, no one but their pack for miles. His head feels like it’s full of a crowd, full of indistinct voices and impressions and feelings that aren’t his, and he thinks his skull might explode.

 _:got you,:_ Hyde says, gentle as he can be with Neil’s mind raw and too-open from the drugs. _:got you_.:

There’s a momentary pulse of _:affection/sorry:_ and then Hyde’s mind strikes Neil’s a sledgehammer blow between the eyes.

Neil’s last sight is the blank look on Andrew’s face. He doesn’t even feel himself crumple.

* * *

Neil wakes up in a room he doesn't recognize, in a bed he doesn’t know, with a weight beside him that's too cool and light to be Hyde’s comforting bulk. His first thought is _:gunsmoke-and-gasoline?:_ but it feels wrong.

 _:cayenne-and-incense,:_ Hyde corrects, his voice full of a furious snap, like lighting. _:took you to_ this _place, after failsafe.:_

Neil breathes slow and even, processing the multilayered image of the house that Hyde has given him, the sense of windows and doors and exterior decorations and the scents that blanket the property.

The knowledge is less than helpful right now, when he doesn’t know anything about the interior layout of the house, but as soon as he can move, it will help in planning an escape.

Drawing back from Hyde the slightest bit, Neil takes stock of himself. His stomach is roiling in a way that says moving too fast is going to cause him to throw up, his whole body feels jerky and loose-fitting, and, most alarmingly, there’s a familiar pulsing ache in his temples, ready to erupt into screaming pain at the slightest provocation.

It feels too much like the aftermath of Dublin, and he can’t afford that, not here. Neil’s breath catches, against his will, and he can feel himself starting to panic.

 _:easy,:_ Hyde says, brushing soothingly against the surface of Neil’s mind. _:holding steady, blurry but speaking clear, steps in time, not braided together.:_

Neil forces himself to calm down. Hyde says he’s fine, that there isn’t any more damage, and Hyde would _know_. That makes his top priority getting away. He’s not in good shape, exactly, but he’s been in worse and moved anyway.

He shifts, and a bolt of pain runs from the back of his head down his spine and back up again, making him hiss and go still. Nicky’s arm over him tightens, and Neil can’t contain the burst of _rage_ that blooms, wild, at the feeling.

He’s still wearing the heavy boots he was forced into last night, and it takes just a moment of consideration, of Hyde’s black-ice temper in the back of his head egging him on, before Neil twists slightly, and drives one booted heel back into Nicky’s body. He doesn’t care what he hits, but the impact is satisfyingly heavy.

Sitting up, the nausea spikes just as expected, and Neil barely sees the trash can by the bed before he’s throwing up into it. It takes a while to stop, and when it does, Neil is shaking. Nicky has recovered from the kick, enough to have been murmuring reassurances and rubbing Neil’s back while he vomited.

Neil doesn’t even think before he throws the elbow, not hard enough to break anything, but with enough force to bloody Nicky’s nose, or bruise his face.

“Ow, Jesus, relax will you?” Nicky asks, moving away from Neil, one hand coming up to cradle his face.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Neil says, Hyde’s snarl pulling his lips back from his teeth.

Nicky retreats with satisfying speed, and Neil forces himself to stand, though it’s such a struggle he has to take a break to breathe once he’s upright. His lungs fill with scents that have no place inside a house, and Neil barely restrains himself from hissing several choice words.

They haven’t been this bad at being separate for _years_.

“What happened last night?” Neil asks, because he _thinks_ he mostly has the sequence of events together, but between the way his mind was tying itself in knots from the drugs, and the fact that Hyde knocked him unconscious from inside his own skull, he could be missing any number of things.

He’s lost entire days before, from bad drug reactions. Sometimes to unconsciousness, sometimes just because his mind refused to create memories. It wouldn’t surprise him if cracker dust did something similar.

“Well, you clawed me up pretty good,” Nicky says gesturing to the red marks up and down his arms, “so I guess it’s a good thing you’re cute. Not sure how your conversation with Andrew went, but rumor has it you passed out halfway through. Way to cut the night short.”

That...tallies well with the shattered-glass recollections Neil has. Good. He takes a slow breath, setting aside the sharp smell of new-cut grass and the stink of garbage.

“He’s awake?” someone asks from the door, and Neil doesn’t even think before throwing the alarm clock at the newcomer. Unfortunately, it only crashes into the doorframe, and Aaron steps back in a moment later.

Neil grasps for another projectile, but nothing comes to hand, and his vision is starting to swim uncomfortably. He slumps, gasping and trying to control his heart rate.

“Where’s Andrew?” Nicky asks, sliding out of bed and making his way to Neil’s side.

“Out with Kevin, getting food.”

“Not sure Neil can eat anything,” Nicky says, sounding concerned.

“He can watch, then,”

Nicky puts a cautious hand on Neil’s shoulder, and says “Come on, you need some water.”

Neil shrugs him off, and forces himself to stand up straight. He’s still scattered and sick from the drugs and Hyde’s hasty failsafe, but he’s never been one to let the condition of his body stop him, and he’s done just fine in worse conditions.

“I need a shower,” he says, because a shower means ten minutes alone in a room to put his mind back in order, so that he’s no longer smelling outdoors with a nose keener than human, and his vision will stop flickering in and out of colorblindness.

Also, if he’s lucky, the bathroom will have one of the small windows Hyde has scouted, and he’ll be on his way out of here before anyone realizes what’s happened.

“You need water,” Nicky says, and he looks admirably genuine in his concern. Neil just curls his lip.

“Because drinks you give me have been so trustworthy,” he says, and there’s a gleam of chilly satisfaction in the way Nicky winces faintly. “I just want to take a shower.”

Nicky bites his lip, shooting a look at Aaron, who just shrugs apathetically.

“Look,” he says. “You can shower first. By the time you’re done, Kevin and Andrew should be back, and you can ask Andrew whatever you want to about last night.”

“Fine,” Neil says, as if he has any intention of sticking around long enough for that, and Nicky leads him to the bathroom.

As Neil stumbles in, Nicky looks like he wants to say something, but Neil just shuts the door in his face and locks it. He doesn’t have time for that, no matter what it was going to be.

The first order of business, now that he’s alone, is water. Neil gulps down water from the tap until the pounding in his temples and burning in his throat have gone down some, and then takes stock of his options. There are clothes waiting for him, a clean towel hanging on the back of the door and toiletries in the shower itself.

That’s all besides the point, though.

The point is the window between the mirror and the shower. It’s small, but it’s not far off the ground, and Neil will fit through it. It’s just going to be awkward.

Turning on the shower, Neil quickly changes his clothes, stuffing the club clothes down into the toilet tank, and puts back in his contacts, before wriggling out the window.

It’s going to take a while, hitchhiking back to Palmetto, but Neil will take it over two hours in the car with Andrew.

Once he’s made it out onto the streets of the subdivision, Hyde meets him, and sniffs him all over, checking for injuries they both might have missed.

“I’m fine,” Neil says softly, dragging a hand down his brother’s spine. “You know I’m fine.”

 _:smooth surface over killing current,:_ Hyde says, but there’s no bite to it, as they start towards Palmetto. They’ve known each other too long for that.

* * *

Neil is leaning against Hyde’s side, working out chemical equations with grinding slowness. It’s straightforward enough, now that he knows the rules, except for how it totally isn’t. The class is supposed to be basic, but then again, it’s probably intended for people who’ve had twelve years of standardized American education. Which Neil definitely doesn’t have.

He blows out a breath, finding a mistake in the problem he’s just finished, and erases the answer, starting over.

 _:keys-in-door,:_ Hyde says idly, one ear twitching. _:sweat-and-leather,:_ he identifies a moment later, just before Matt opens the door to the room.

“What are you working on?” Matt asks, and Neil shrugs with one shoulder, writing down a new answer, and scrutinizing it to make sure that the equation balances.

“Chemistry,” he says. “I’m not very good at it.”

Matt laughs. “Just get used to being behind,” he says. “You’re never going to catch up.”

Neil wrinkles his nose, and starts the next problem.

“Look, I know you’re busy,” Matt says, “but Dan and I were going to head out to the quad, play some frisbee if you want to join us?”

The problem folds open, and Neil writes down an answer that at least balances, even if he’s not sure the chemicals in question are at all real. It’s the last one on the assignment, and he looks up at Matt.

He’s still not quite sure what to make of the upperclassman, in spite of the fact they live together, but the only other thing he could work on is an assignment for his speech class—an introductory speech—and between having to come up with five minutes of talking about the lies he’s made up about himself or going outside, the choice is easy.

 _:grass underfoot, sun-against-fur, run/play-fight?:_ Hyde asks wistfully, which just clinches it.

“Sure,” Neil says, making his way down the ladder as Hyde jumps from the lofted bed. “Let me get my shoes on.”

* * *

It’s been years since the last time Neil touched a frisbee, and his aim is predictably terrible, but neither Matt nor Dan care. Dan’s aim is just as bad, though she can throw longer distances than Neil can.

Neil finds himself surprised at how much he enjoys chasing after the frisbee, trying to catch it, and Hyde likes it too, the unpredictability of the throws and the speed the frisbee can travel.

Both of them have always been quick and attentive, but with the way Dan’s throws sometimes go off in strange directions, catching them requires more focus and skill than they’ve needed for a long time. More intensity than they’ve ever spent on play.

It’s going well, right up until the moment Hyde forgets to be gentle and snaps the frisbee out of the air. There’s a cracking noise, and Hyde freezes for a moment, before carefully dropping the frisbee—broken cleanly in two—on the grass in front of Dan.

There’s a moment of breathless wariness, and then Dan drops to her knees laughing.

“The look on your face,” she says to Hyde. “You look so worried.”

 _:okay/not okay?:_ Hyde asks Neil, confused.

Neil shrugs a little, not sure himself.

“We’re going to have to get a better Frisbee,” Matt says to Neil, picking up the pieces. “Looks like the ones we usually use aren’t going to stand up to playing with your brother as well as they do when it’s just us.”

“You’re fine,” Dan says to Hyde, reaching out with one hand to touch his face. He dances back, still nervous, and Dan lowers her hand, looking a little sad.

“Well then,” she says, standing and wiping her hands on her legs. “Tag? We’ve still got time before I have to head to class, and there’s enough of us.”

 _:?:_ Hyde asks, returning to Neil’s side and pressing close to his thigh.

 _:play-hunt,:_ Neil explains, dropping a hand to run along his brother’s flank. _:chase-touch-run-away.:_

Hyde’s response to that is a dubious whuff of air, but when Dan calls being It, he’s first off the mark away from her.

It takes a few rounds before Matt manages to tag Hyde, who has settled into the good nature of the game.

Neil has about five seconds after that to read his brother’s intent, before he’s taking off at top speed, Hyde hot on his heels. Escape is made more difficult by having to dodge around the other students on the quad, but Neil’s always been agile. He ducks, cuts sharply to one side, throwing a hand out for balance, and laughs _:trick!:_ as Hyde speeds past him.

His lead doesn’t last, because Hyde is just as agile as Neil is, and faster to boot. It’s not long before Neil is trapped under his brother’s bulk, forced to endure a thorough face licking.

It’s different, very different, from the kind of play they’re used to, but...it’s not bad.

* * *

The first game of the season comes too quickly and not fast enough, and it feels like an age and a breath between the first team practice and Neil gearing up for the game against Breckenridge.

The NCAA prohibits bondwolves on the bench, as a precaution against those pairs of siblings who can see through each other’s eyes, so just before the team heads out, Neil drops his outer gloves and helmet on one of the chairs in the lounge and leans over to dig his fingers into the fur behind his brother’s ears.

 _:chase-and-fight,:_ Hyde says, nuzzling his way to press his cheek to Neil’s. _:clever swiftness, trickery, winning. too quick-agile-smart to be caught/crushed:_

Neil breathes, inhales the warm smell of Hyde’s coat and the phantom _:sage-and-gasoline:_ of his brother’s name.

“Let’s go, Neil,” Dan calls, and Neil straightens, grabs his gloves and helmet, and joins the rest of the team at the doors to the court.

* * *

The next day, after Neil has burned his tongue on hot words and earned himself yet another enemy, Andrew gives them an ultimatum, and Neil runs.

Neil runs, and Hyde runs with him, but they can’t leave the sight of Andrew’s bloody fingers and terrible grin behind, the pounding of their feet and the thunder of their twinned hearts can’t drown out that terrifying offer of _give your back to me_.

It’s _stupid_ , it’s so much stupider than even joining the Foxes, to think that Andrew could be right. That pure Fox infamy could be enough of a smokescreen to hide them, that one man could be enough protect them. Maybe if they really were who they pretended to be—the child of a Moriyama underling hiding from vengeance, the backwoods bondwolf without enough sense to find a better brother—

But they’re not.

They’re never going to be anything that safe.

* * *

Neil is still cursing himself when he finds himself at Andrew’s door, minutes before nine, and he can’t quite make himself knock.

That doesn’t matter though, because moments later, Andrew opens the door anyway.

“You made it,” he says, and his eyes are fierce. “Interesting.”

He reaches out with two fingers, and Neil jerks away before controlling himself. Andrew’s fingers at his throat are cold, and Andrew smiles as he leans into Neil’s space.

“Remember this. This is the moment you stop being the rabbit.”

Hyde snarls in Neil’s mind, because they’ve never been anything that simple, but Neil just breathes, slow and steady, and follows Andrew and Kevin out of the dorm.

The second trip to Columbia goes better than the first, in that, at least, Neil isn’t drugged, his brain doesn’t feel like everyone’s shouting into it, and Andrew doesn’t seem intent on ripping him and Hyde apart for their secrets.

Andrew still takes a few, because that’s the nature of the game that Neil and Hyde are playing with him, but there’s at least a hint of reciprocation this time.

Because they’re Foxes, though, such good fortune can’t last.

They’re pulling into driveway of the cousins’ house when Aaron’s phone rings. Whatever’s going on is too unbelievable for Aaron, who hands the phone over to Andrew.

Someone’s dead of an overdose, it turns out. The only question is—

“Who?” Neil asks.

“Seth.”

Neil blinks, reaching out to Hyde, who flicks his tail dismissively and leaps down from the lofted bed at Fox Tower.

 _:wouldn’t know,:_ he says as he nudges open the bedroom door and makes his way out into the suite, _:tomcat-and-city-street mind-silent. and annoying:_

Neil doesn’t disagree. He and Hyde get occasional flickers from most of the Foxes now, after being around them so much, but neither of them liked Seth, particularly, and the man was either wolf-deaf on a truly impressive level, or had a real talent for blocking them out.

 _:sweat-and-leather, rich-earth-and-heavy-rain, rotting-flowers, steel-and-lake-water?:_ Neil asks, and Hyde huffs, wrestling with the suite door for a moment, before making his way into the hall, and shouldering open the unlatched door to Dan’s suite.

Dan, Matt and Renee are all sprawled out, Dan and Matt taking the couch and Renee lying on the floor.

 _:rich-earth-and-heavy-rain, sweat-and-leather, steel-and-lake-water here,:_ Hyde says, as he curls up on the floor, ignoring Dan’s half-voiced question and Matt’s stare. _:unhurt/startled? safe. will keep watch.:_

 _:rotting-flowers?:_ Neil asks, and Hyde flicks his tail.

 _:too-far,:_ he says. _:not loud-interesting-dangerous.:_

 _:fair,:_ Neil says, and returns his attention to Columbia. While his attention has been away, Andrew has headed to the front porch of the house and started fiddling with his keys, while Nicky has begun pacing the driveway, his hands on the back of his neck.

Neil blinks, sliding out of Nicky’s open door. It seems like a bit of an overreaction to him—Nicky never even _liked_ Seth, and the feeling was more than mutual. An overdose is an ugly way to die, but certainly not the ugliest that Neil has ever encountered.

He joins Andrew on the porch instead, getting a bored look.

“Well,” Andrew says, gesturing at Neil with his cigarette. “That apathy doesn’t bode well for you.”

Neil shrugs. “Staying alive has always mattered too much to us. We don’t understand trying to die.”

“He wasn’t,” Andrew says, shoving open the door and walking inside. Neil follows. “He wanted a way to spend a few hours not thinking or feeling anything. The way he picked just happens to be occasionally fatal. Not like he wasn’t warned.”

“Is that why you drink?” Neil asks, and Andrew turns so fast Neil nearly runs into him. Andrew reaches up, presses a finger to the base of Neil’s throat in warning.

This close, Neil can smell the alcohol and cigarette smoke, and he can’t help the way it reminds him of California, the way it’s as familiar as his own name.

 _:salt-spray-and-burning/gunsmoke-and-gasoline,:_ Hyde says softly, and Neil reaches out, unthinking, to take Andrew’s cigarette. For whatever reason, Andrew doesn’t protest, just presses his finger harder against the hollow Neil’s throat.

“I don’t feel,” Andrew says. “Don’t forget that.”

Neil shrugs, stepping back a little to get Andrew’s hand away from his skin. “So Kevin’s deal is just entertainment for you?”

“Anyway, Seth didn’t kill himself,” Andrew says, turning back away and not answering the question. “He only takes his antidepressants when he and Allison are fighting.”

“I saw her check him,” Neil remembers. “Before we left.”

“So did I,” Andrew says. “Which rather begs the question of how they ended up with him again. My guess is that Riko won this round.”

“What?”

“You told him on national television that our strength was our small size. I guess he wanted to see if you could back that up on the starting line.”

Neil swallows. “You can’t prove it.”

“No,” Andrew says. “But I’m right anyway.”

“We’re willing to gamble with our life,” Neil says, feeling the weight of Hyde’s full attention settle behind his eyes, “but we’re not willing to do the same with theirs. They deserve better.”

“So don’t,” Andrew says. “I will. The Foxes’ luck is predictably bad, but no one would believe we had two unrelated deaths in a single season. Besides, another death would take us below the requisite number of players, and Riko and Coach Moriyama have everything riding on beating us on the court. They won’t risk disqualifying us.”

Hyde huffs, from his place on the floor of Dan’s suite, and Neil can feel it in his lungs. He doesn’t say anything.

Andrew hooks a finger in the collar of Neil’s shirt and tugs, just enough that Neil can feel it, not quite hard enough to bother Hyde. “I know what I’m doing,” he says. “I knew when I made that deal with Kevin what it would cost and how far I’d have to go. The others knew too, no matter how stupid they seem. You understand? So you’re not going anywhere.”

He waits until Neil nods before he lets go. Taking his cigarette back, he leaves a key behind in Neil’s palm.

It’s a copy, clearly, and Neil stares at it for a second, before his eyes flicker to the door, and then back to the key, then up to Andrew.

“Get some sleep,” Andrew says. “We’ll go back home tomorrow, and figure this out then.”

He steps around Neil and walks out the front door, taking a seat on the front step. Neil recognizes his posture—Andrew might not care at all about Seth, or have any comfort to offer his family, but he’s keeping watch over them anyway.

Turning away, Neil sets off down the hall, eventually curling up in one of the den’s recliners, key clenched in his hand, hard enough the teeth bite his palm.

“Home,” he whispers, pressing his knuckles to his lips.

It’s all too likely, no matter the promises he and Hyde have made, that they’ll be leaving Palmetto State in body bags by the end of the year. But. Neil’s fingers tighten, and then he forces his hand open, examining the plain key in his palm.

But they’ll spend the next few months with the Foxes, with what seems like a bright future. Their deaths will be a tragedy.

That sounds better than dying scared in a back alley halfway across the world, even if running now might buy them more time.

 _:home,:_ Hyde agrees, and Neil breathes out slowly, resting his forehead against his knees.

 _:eyes on watch,:_ Hyde sends, and Neil closes his eyes, lets the steady drum of his brother’s heart, the security of his vigilance, put him to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> a million thanks, as always, to the incomparable [tothatfuturesky](http://tothatfuturesky.tumblr.com/) for putting up with my bullshit, beta reading a million times and not letting me get away with weak sections.
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


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